


The Double-Y Chromosome Facility

by LtHearts



Category: Alien 3 (1992), Alien Series
Genre: Alpha Prisoners, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Canon Rewrite, Drabble Collection, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:12:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtHearts/pseuds/LtHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her EEV crash-lands on Fury 161, long suffering Ripley now has to contend with a planet full of Double-Y Chromosome Alphas. Things weren't like this when she first set out on the Nostromo, that's for sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Double-Y Chromosome Facility

**Author's Note:**

> This (experimental re-write of sections of the novel) is the first bit of writing I've shared online in some time. Thanks for reading and all!

The EEV had attracted its share of stares when it had first been hauled inside the complex. Ripley drew rather more as she and Clemens approached. She did a much better job of pretending not to notice than the prisoners did of trying not to look.

‘Just what kind of place is this prison?’ she asked her guide as they started up a ramp towards the battered lifeship. 

Clemens stayed close. ‘This used to be a thousand convict facility and mineral ore refinery, mostly platinum-group minerals. Naturally the raw ore was refined on the spot by the prisoners sent here. Teaching them a trade and paying them a bit was much cheaper than shipping the ore offworld for processing elsewhere.’

‘And now?’ She stopped outside the EEV and was inspecting the damaged hull.

‘Now, its been reduced to a twenty five man custodial staff. They keep the place from freezing up in case the price of the ore goes back up. Works out well for the government and the Company.’

As another prisoner’s gaze lingered on her she asked, ‘Any women ever visit out here?’

Clemens eyes flashed suddenly, but relaxed just as quickly. ‘This is a strictly male facility, Lieutenant.’

She nodded, then turned and bent to crawl through what remained of the battered air lock. Clemens let her forge a path, then followed. 

***

After showing her around the Assembly Hall, Clemens sat and gestured for Ripley to do the same. He pulled a flask from somewhere and offered it to her.

She smiled, stroking her now shorn hair. 'Thanks, but I'm on medication.'

Clemens smiled too and took a drink.

‘You didn’t answer my question, you know,’ she said meeting his eyes with a stubborn gleam.

'Which one?' He said, screwing the cap back on his flask.

'When I asked if you'd ever had women here. You said it's a male facility, but didn't actually answer my question.'

'Ah.' Clemens hesitated to meet her gaze then. 'This is a double Y chromosome facility, Lieutenant.' He paused to see what effect the words had on her. When she continued to watch him expectantly, he went on, 'I don't know how much the Company has shared with people back home, but -'

'That wouldn't matter really,' Ripley interjected. She rubbed her eyes as Clemens looked at her inquisitively. 'Let's just say i've been out there a very long time... haven't had time to catch up on current politics."

He took a moment to register this and then spoke again, 'Well, I'm not as up to date as I should be, but the past three decades have given great strides, and great disappointments, in the movement towards recognition of those with alpha and omega presentations. Double Y males are considered the most aggressive form of an alpha presentation and so those who committed crimes and tested positive for it were segregated here, away from general prison populations."

Ripley took this in stride. 'Well that isn't surprising, I suppose. When i was just out of school they were already denying omegas the right to a pilot's license.'

'Oh, that wouldn't be allowed now,' Clemens announced. 'Many omegas fought hard to gain the same rights as betas and alphas, despite their heats. A booming trade has arisen out of the need for heat suppressors, in fact. The Company, of course, has it's own pharmaceutical divisions dedicated to it.'

She gave a huff of laughter before remembering where she was and closing her eyes for a moment, She spoke again after a moment of silence. 'I'm not surprised, but what does that mean for me? I know Andrews wants me quarantined, but I'm not an omega. I pose no threat to the alpha population here.'

Clemens looked back to make sure none of the prisoners cleaning up near by were watching or listening. 'You may not be an omega, but everyone here can smell a female from a mile off and not all of them will deal with that as well as could be hoped. He's... concerned for your safety.'

The lieutenant snorted softly. 'More likely he's concerned for himself.'

'While I agree with you there, your asking about previous female visitors does bring another matter to mind.'

'What's that?'

'The issue of rut,' Clemens said plainly.

'The prisoners aren't on ...suppressors?' Ripley inquired, plainly confused.

'There is no such thing for a doubly Y alpha. It can't be done,' Clemens stated. 'And given Wayland-Yutani's way of running things I doubt they'd pay for the expense even if it did. They'd most likely enjoy it if the prisoners slowly offed one another over territorial disputes. Less supplies needing to be expended.'

'So how has Andrews been managing it?'

Clemens gave a weak smile, unscrewing the cap on his flask again to take a long sip. 'He hasn't.'

Ripley stared back, clearly waiting for an explanation.

'Without the scent of a female on the whole planet, or any omegas at all, the general population stays at a median temperament most of the time. Sure there's the occasional dispute, but they've worked it out quite nicely.'

'Until I arrived.'

'Until you arrived.' Clemens shifted where he sat, leaning closer. 'Andrews is afraid, perhaps rightly, that if one of these men gets too good a whiff of your scent, discreet as it is given you're a beta, it could start a chain reaction among them.'

Ripley pondered this in silence, puzzling it over. 'What about all that stuff about faith? Wouldn't it keep them in line?'

'Dillon and the rest of them got religion, so to speak, about five years ago-'

'What kind of religion?' Ripley interrupted.

'I don't know -- some sort of millenarian apocalyptic Christian fundamentalist brew. It calms their minds, but would do nothing against the hormonal demands of rut,' he stated before taking another sip.

'Uh huh,'

'Exactly. The point is when the Company wanted to close down this facility. Dillon and the rest of the converts wanted to stay. They were allowed to remain as custodians -- with two minders and a medical officer. And here we are.'

His explanation only gave Ripley more questions. 'Why were they allowed to stay?'

Clemens gave a sigh and rubbed his forehead, giving the impression he was fighting off a headache. It was some time before he responded. 'Officially their religion made them model prisoners. If anyone should be allowed to stay and maintain the facility, it would be the peaceful separatists who may or may not be easily rehoused. But unofficially...'

'What?' Ripley sat up a bit now, interested.

Clemens looked around the hall again. 'Unofficially, there was... an incident the year before the facility was closed. This group played a major part in it. I don't think the Company wanted them able to spread their knowledge to anyone off-world.' 

'And how did you get this wonderful assignment? Were you here for this "incident"?' 

He looked down at his flask and gave a vague dismissive gesture. 'How do you like your hair cut?'

Ripley rubbed her head and smiled at the inelegant change of subject. 'It's alright. Weird, I guess.'

Clemens put his flask away and looked at the lieutenant directly. 'Now that I've gone out on the limb for you with Andrews, damaging my already less than perfect relationship with that good man, and briefed you on the hum-drum history of Fury 161, how about you tell me what you were looking for in the girl? And why was it necessary to cremate the bodies?'

Silence echoed in the hall before Ripley asked a non-sequitur of her own, 'Are you attracted to me?'

Clemens almost laughed. 'In what way?'

'In that way.'

'You're rather direct,' he managed in answer, still off balance from the question.

She almost smiled again. 'Yes. Like I said, I've been out here a long time.'

Clemens looked down at his hands and gave an understanding snort. 'So have I.'

Their eyes met then in the gloom of the hall. 

***  
She awoke slowly, the weight of Clemens form making her yearn to curl around him and go back to the first peaceful rest she'd had in what seemed like forever. Still, her eyes slowly came to focus on the barcode hidden just below the short crop of Clemens' hair. Either waking at the same moment, or sensing her consciousness, he shifted and climbed from the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head as Ripley shifted beneath the bedsheets of the cot, stretching away the last remainders of sleep. Clemens strode across the floor, near the built-ins, pouring himself something dark and potent from a canister into a glass. 

'As much as I... appreciate your affections, I really do have to ask you some questions I'm afraid,' he said after taking a sip of the alcohol.

Ripley almost smiled as she sat up, the sheets pooling around her hips. 'You're rather spoiling the mood.'

Clemens' brow furrowed. 'One does have a job to do. I'd like to know why you were so insistent on having the bodies cremated.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'I get it. Now that I'm in your cot, you think I owe you an answer.'

Clemens shifted in obvious frustration. 'No, I think I deserve some answers. You're being in my cot has nothing to do with it.' He paused for another swig. 

Ripley leaned back and closed her eyes as her head came to rest on the headboard. 'In hyper-sleep I... had a bad dream. I'd rather not discuss it. But I just had to be sure what killed her.' She gave a brief sigh. 'I made a mistake...'

'Yes, possibly'.

Ripley rolled languidly onto her side and stared over at the medical officer. 'And now I've made another mistake.'

Clemens coughed briefly and stared at her. 'What's that?'

'Fraternizing with a prisoner. Physical contact with a double Y alpha.' She smirked a little. 'That's against the rules isn't it?'

'Oh, definitely. Who was the lucky fellow?'

She stared at him pointedly before replying, 'You.'

Clemens grimaced and put down his glass, leaning back against the built-in. 'I'm not a prisoner.'

'Then what about the barcode tattooed on the back of your head?'

'I suppose that does demand some kind of explanation. But I don't think this is the moment.' He cocked his head and gave her a lopsided grin. 'Sorry. We are rather spoiling things, aren't we.?'

The buzz of the intercom rang before Ripley could respond.

***  
'I don't know why everybody blames everybody for everything. No such thing as a perfect human...nobody I know...' Golic muttered from where he was bound on the infirmary cot. 'In an insane world, a sane man must appear...insane!'

Clemens pulled his eyes from the prisoner and looked back at the lieutenant in front of him. 'That's very profound. Thank you, Golic.'

Golic gave a giant grin, which dimmed as he fidgeted about in the straightjacket. 'You married?'

Ripley looked up. 'Me?'

'You should get married. Find a mate and have kids. ...Pretty girl.' He grinned again. His eyes looking towards the ceiling and losing himself in some memory. 'I used to know lots of 'em...back home. They used to like me...for a while...' His grin faded and a haunted look passed over his features. His eyes snapped to Ripley's. 'You're gonna die too.'

Clemens stood and snapped the medical curtain closed, sealing Golic off on the other side of the divisor. As he sat back across from Ripley, he asked, 'Are you?'

Ripley looked at Clemens, clearly still off balance from Golic's ...warning? 'What?'

'Married?' He clarified.

'Why?' She asked, suddenly suspicious. After their activities earlier was he looking for something more permanent?

He shrugged casually as he mixed up the medication to ease Ripley's pain. Very carefully avoiding eye contact as he responded, 'Just curious.'

Ripley eased a bit. 'No.'

Finished loading the needle, Clemens gently took her arm. The warmth of her skin reminding him of the hours they'd been wrapped up in one another. 

'How about leveling with me?' She suddenly requested, looking directly into his eyes.

'Could you be a little more specific?' Clemens asked, focusing again on priming the needle.

'When I asked you if there were ever any women here, you didn't answer. When I asked how and when you got assigned here, you avoided the question. When I asked you about the prison ID tattooed on the back of your head, you avoided me again.' She explained calmly.

Clemens looked up and put the syringe to a side. 'It's a long sad story. And a bit melodramatic.'

Ripley smiled softly. 'Enlighten me.'

'If you insist...' Clemens sighed and sat down next to her, looking up as if it was all fresh before him. 'After my student years, despite the fact that I had secretly become addicted to Morphine, I was considered most promising. A man with a future.' He paused and gave a somewhat sardonic grin. 'While I was on my first residency, I did a 36-hour stretch in an E.R. Then I went out, and got more than a little drunk. Then I got called back. A boiler had blown on a fuel station. Thirty patients came in.' His words came a little quicker then as if he were attempting to hold off some terrible emotion kept locked away for far too long. 'Eleven of them died. Not because of the explosion, but because I prescribed the wrong dosage of pain killer.' He looked down at his lap for a moment then back to Lieutenant Ripley. 'I got seven years in prison and my licensed reduced to a 3-C.' He gave a cynical shrug. 'At least I got off the morphine...'

'Did you serve your time here?' Ripley asked softly.

He gave a smile. 'Yes, I got to know this motley crew quite well.' He paused and looked over towards the direction where Golic was resting. 'Then, six months before my release, there was a problem with the prison's security.'

'What kind of problem?' 

'The incident i mentioned before... Well, with over a thousand inmates there were of course numerous guards and officials on Fiorina. Watching over us chosen few...insuring we did as we were told. But legally, the guards - private security sent by the Company of course - weren't allowed to be discriminatory as to sex or presentation.' He gave a sigh, hindsight being so clear. 'The prisoners suffered waves of uncontrollable rut. Scenting a female guard, an omega staff member...who knows what set it off, but it was terrible.' His eyes squeezed shut at the memory. 'Days where you felt like your skin would burn off you, the want...the need clawing through you. Some men attacked guards en masse, some attacked weaker inmates... It was horrific. After the first year, the Company didn't know what to do, reports were getting back to earth that an appointment here was a death sentence. 

'So the powers that be came up with a plan. A schedule.' His tone changed to something nearly dreamlike, light and almost reinvent. 'For one week every six months the prisoners would be allowed a conjugal visitor. If they didn't have someone, they were allowed to put in a ...request I suppose you'd call it and someone fitting their wants would appear with the wives and girlfriends on the next convoy. They were even given an antimicrobial pill to keep the bugs off their hair and skin. It worked well enough for years... It calmed the prisoners, created good PR back home, and even gave the guards and suppliers a bit of a break as there's little that can move an alpha from his bed for the week of rut if given the chance. It even increased output. Strong, happy men working for the goal of that one week created a bond between them. Anyone who chose to disobey or cause trouble was cast out by the rest, given over to the guards for solitary confinement and a revocation of that term's privileges.'

'So what happened?' Ripley was puzzled but captivated by Clemens' story.

Clemens worried his bottom lip and looked over again towards Golic, thinking perhaps he saw the man's head peeking upside-down from beneath the curtain. 'I suppose it was bound to go wrong eventually. This isn't Earth... or even the Sol system...' He sat up a little straighter and looked back to Ripley. 'There was a breakout. Or an attempted one at least. The prisoner had been confined for bad behavior, locked in a dark cell with thick steel walls especially for the week. But the guards had gotten lazy, distracted by the easy workload that week. He...managed to free himself and went on a rampage. 7 guards died, 12 were wounded. And..a couple of civilians got caught up in it...mates and visitors saying their goodbyes. Golic there...his girl...I think she was his mate, I'm still not sure if she made it or not. He caught some bad wounds from the loose prisoner, trying to fight for her, weak post-rut but still hellbent on protecting her. He's been different ever since. The whole place was different. They shot the rogue alpha after finally cornering him. Cleaned up the mess and swept everything under the carpet. Canceled the privileges permanently and informed everyone the facility was closing shortly after.'

'And those most strongly affected had found comfort in Dillon's religion?' Ripley looked over at the silhouette of Golic then too.

'Yes, I think they all, in one way or another, had seen something horrible that day. Which is saying something knowing the crimes they themselves committed. So when they stayed, I stayed.' His eyes held sadness but he managed a polite smile. 'Plus, nobody else would employ me.'

She gave a small smile in response and heard Golic shifting around on the bed.

Clemens stood again and grabbed the medicine from the cloth on the side table. 'So do you still trust me with a needle?'

**Author's Note:**

> Though Ripley is certainly kick-ass, I placed her as a Beta because things just keep /happening/ to her (at least through A³). If I write more on this I may think about it more though.


End file.
